Author's Note: Gosh, I'm sorry about the last author's note. It appears that I've guilt-tripped a lot of you into reviewing, so I feel kinda bad. I was in a relatively unhappy mood when I went to edit the last chapter, and that's what came out when I started writing the author's note. I still mean everything I said, of course, but I probably shouldn't have been mildly ranting about it xD

So, to make up for making you guys read a ridiculously long and snippy author's note last time, I've decided to put up this chapter a bit earlier than I'd originally planned to.

Chapter 56

"Hermione, I think you've gone mental."

Yes, I think that's a valid assessment, seeing as I can't seem to stop looking at his face.

"What exactly did you see, the night before last?" I ask her.

She doesn't reply, and I finally lift my eyes away from Draco's face to look at Ginny. The redhead is watching me with a guarded expression, as though she's trying to decide how much to tell me.

"Come on, Ginny, out with it."

"You kissed him," she says. "And it looked like he… like he didn't want to. Why, Hermione? Of all people, why him? I mean, Harry and I thought that it was only a matter of time before you and Blaise realized how good you'd be for each other. But Malfoy? Malfoy?"

I sigh. "Ginny, please stop. I already have enough of those thoughts running in my head, without you helping them on."

"I don't understand. Why?"

"I can't explain it," I say. "I just… I don't know how to describe it."

"Well… I'll admit that he has a pretty face, but a lot of guys do, Hermione."

"It's not just his appearance—do you really think I'd like a guy just for his appearance?" I say. Then I turn to look back at Draco. "Malfoy's changed. He's not the same person he was at school."

"That doesn't justify liking him," Ginny argues.

"Why are you so close-minded? I thought that you, of all people, would understand."

"His dad tried to kill me. His aunt tortured you, killed my dad, and so many more people. They're Death Eaters, Hermione. You can't just overlook that. I'm not being close-minded, I'm being rational. And I thought you, of all people, would appreciate that."

"We can't choose our family," I say.

"Yes, but we can choose our paths. He chose the wrong one."

"But—"

"And don't say that it was all because of his family. Zabini turned his back on his family and picked the right side, didn't he? I respect him for that. Even Ron does—he'll never admit it because he's too busy being a jealous prat most of the time, but I know he does."

"Well, Malfoy's trying to make it right, now. I'm not saying that it was a good thing that he joined the Dark side, but it's certainly worked out for our benefit so far," I reason. "If not for him, Blaise and I would still be locked up in those dungeon cells."

"We would have gotten—"

"No," I say, remembering a fact that will surely help Draco onto Ginny's good side. "If it weren't for Malfoy, Harry would be dead."

My words silence Ginny, and she stares at me incredulously. Then, in a voice filled with skepticism, she says, "How?"

"The night that Harry got hurt at the Leaky Cauldron, I went to Hogwarts to get that herb for him. I wouldn't have made it back without Malfoy. And if I hadn't gotten back and made that potion, Harry would have died."

There's a brief silence as I let my words sink in.

"What happened at Hogwarts?" she finally asks.

"I made it out of the castle all right, but I ran across a Death Eater patrolling the grounds and had to swerve into the Forbidden Forest. I almost made it to an Apparition Point, but I got caught. Malfoy killed three Death Eaters and let me go."

Ginny frowns. "But… wasn't that even before he said that he'd come to our side? I remember Harry was already better by the time we had the meeting about Malfoy."

I nod. "He was probably already thinking about turning at that point," I say. "I just think he deserves another chance. Don't you?"

"Another chance, sure. We can all try to be friends. But you kissed—"

I sigh. "Ginny, you can't tell me what to do. I just… I feel different with him. Better."

"You're right. I can't control you. I just don't want anything to happen to you—you're one of my best friends."

I smile at her. "I know, and thank you. But I know what I'm doing."

At least, I think I do. I take another look at his face. He has on a troubled expression again, tense with what looks like worry. I rub at the crease between his eyebrows again, wanting him to relax. All of those high-stress situations must take such a toll on him.

"You do look like you know what you're doing," Ginny says softly. "I… I hope you're right about him, for your sake."

I smile. "Thanks, Ginny."

Then I frown. It was already after ten when I got some more of Ginny's potion for her, but none of the boys seemed to be up. Odd.

I get to my feet. "I'll go check on the boys."

"Okay."

I exit the room, pull the door shut, and freeze. Blaise is sitting on the couch, twirling his wand between his fingertips idly.

"Blaise," I say, surprised.

He looks up when he hears his name and smiles. "Morning, Hermione."

"Morning," I say.

God, I feel like an idiot. I have no clue what to say to him. I haven't had to be alone with him since he confessed his feelings for me, and I honestly don't know how to act around him anymore.

"You're thinking too much, again," he says.

I sigh. "You have to stop doing that."

He raises an eyebrow. "Doing what?"

"Reading my mind."

He only chuckles, shaking his head.

I start for the couch, but then the fireplace crackles into life, and I immediately leap backwards, flattening against the wall beside the fireplace to stay out of sight.

The Floo connection to this cottage is open? Dear Merlin. Blaise doesn't have enough time to get out of the way, but for some reason, he doesn't budge, even though the person on the other side must be able to see him.

There's a long silence, and I wish I could see who was visiting.

Someone must be looking for Draco—this is his home, after all. Since it's under the Fidelius Charm, they won't be able to see the room or its furnishings, but they will be able to see the inhabitants. Since Draco's in the house, the Floo Network connected the visitor to this fireplace.

Then, I hear a familiar voice. "Blaise… that can't be you."

Blaise grins. "Uncanny, isn't it?"

What on earth is he doing?

A very loud sigh of relief comes from the fireplace. "You really, really scared me, Draco. I thought you'd gotten captured or something."

Blaise keeps the same grin on his face. "Nah, I was just keeping my skills fresh. Haven't practiced for years. Looks like I'm still pretty damn good at it, if I almost fooled you."

"Can you… can you stop it? It's… you even fucking sound like him. It's too much, mate."

"Oh, I'm just getting comfortable in this skin. Come on, Theo, you shouldn't be scared of seeing Blaise's face. We're going to have to see him again, eventually."

"Please," Nott says.

Blaise sighs and gets a proper hold on his wand. "Yeah all right, I'll humor you."

Then, before my eyes, he morphs into Draco. My jaw drops. He looks exactly like Draco—a perfect likeness. Human Transfiguration? It must be. We learned it in sixth year, so I suppose if they spent enough time perfecting their skills…

"Better?"

Oh, and he sounds exactly like Draco, too. That's… more than slightly unnerving.

"Yes, much better," Nott says.

A slight smirk lifts the corners of Blaise's lips, and the effect this motion creates reminds me so much of Draco that I have to look away. It's just Blaise. Just Blaise.

"So, to what do I owe this pleasure?" he asks.

"Well, I heard the news from Astoria. Congratulations."

I bite my lip nervously. Congratulations for what? What is Blaise going to do? But when I look at his face, he seems to be completely confident. Does he really know what Nott is talking about?

His—Draco's—silver eyes flash dangerously. "Are my ears failing me, or did you just congratulate me?"

I frown. Is he that sure of what he's talking about? This seems like awfully dangerous ground. After all, he can't know much about Draco's life in these past three years. There must have been changes…

"I erm…" Nott says hesitantly. "She said…"

"Does it matter what she said? You should know by now that she's a habitual liar," Blaise says.

"She's changed—"

"You and I both know that people don't really change. We'd like to think that they do, but they don't. You shouldn't believe what she tells you."

"Then… there's no wedding?"

I frown. Wedding? We're in the middle of a bloody war!

"That's not what I said," Blaise says easily, leaning back into the couch. "She told you that I was happy about it, didn't she?"

"Yeah, she did."

"That's what she's lying about."

How in the world can Blaise be so sure about this? I'd be terrified if I were in his position. But I suppose it makes sense—he knew Draco's life perfectly well, inside and out. And he's definitely a talented liar. Still… three years! How can he be so sure of himself after such a long time?

"Then…" Nott says.

"I won't let it happen if I can help it."

"Why? She's not bad-looking. It could be a lot worse."

"Do you think I'm going to let my father decide who I'm going to suffer the rest of my life with? If I ever do get married, it's going to be to a woman with whom I can hold an intelligent conversation, and not Astoria Greengrass."

"Well. This reaction from you makes a lot more sense," Nott says from the fireplace. "Astoria said you were thrilled."

What if Draco really had been happy?

I really don't want to react this way, but I can't help the twinge of jealousy that rises in my chest. This is absolutely absurd! I'm being completely illogical. Even if Draco did act happy in front of Greengrass, it would have been to keep his cover.

But that jealousy is still right there, like an itch that I can't scratch.

"Is that all you came for?" Blaise asks.

"I wanted to know if you have time to meet at the pub tonight. Greg and Vince just got switched back to Hogwarts duty, so they'll be coming tonight. It's been a while since you came, and I don't think I can handle all that stupidity on my own."

"I'm not feeling up to it. Next time."

"But—"

"You'd force me to go?" Blaise says, raising an eyebrow.

"No, no, of course not. I'll erm… see you some other time, then."

The flames die down, but I'm still a little worried about moving into view.

"I think it's safe now," Blaise says.

"Can you… change back, please?" I ask him.

He smirks, and I shudder at the unnatural resemblance.

"It's so fun to watch you squirm uncomfortably, though," he says.

I take a few steps toward him. "Did you already know about Greengrass?"

He shakes his head and Transfigures back into himself. "I improvised. Is Draco in the house? He must be, if the Floo took Theo here."

I nod. "He's really hurt, in the bedroom. Where are Harry and Ron?"

"They went to McGonagall's together with the dagger—they wanted to show it to McGonagall and Shacklebolt," Blaise informs me.

"I see."

"What happened to Draco?"

"I don't know about it—he wouldn't say what happened."

"Is he awake?"

"No—I told him to sleep."

"I want to talk to him."

"He almost died of overexertion. He needs to sleep," I say.

Blaise frowns. "Overexertion? Draco's got an unnaturally high capacity for magic. It's hard to believe he'd be overworked to the point of death."

"How do you know—"

"Pureblood families test for magical capacity," Blaise says, answering my question before I finish asking it. "As soon as kids start to show magical power, parents take them to see their potential."

I frown. "How can that possibly be accurate?"

"I don't really know how it works. There are these witches… they're like Seers. I know you think Divination is a load of bollocks, but these people are seldom proven wrong."

That's actually really interesting. I wonder what they base their conclusions on. There must be something concrete that these witches can test, if they're really so accurate…

But I suppress my intellectual curiosity and say, "Well, whatever his capacity for wandless magic is, he exceeded it by too much. What is it that you want to talk to him about?"

"It's personal. No worries—it can wait until he recovers. How are you?"

I hesitate. Is he asking about…?

"Oh, Hermione," he says. "I just knew that I shouldn't have said a thing. You think far too much for your own good."

"I… I'm not thinking…"

"Of course you're not," he says, smiling.

I turn away from him. "You are officially never allowed to look at my face again," I say.

He bursts into laughter behind me.

"Blaise, you're awful," I say, heading for the kitchen.

He catches my hand and spins me around. "Sorry, Hermione."

When I raise an eyebrow at him, he smiles.

"I'm serious," he adds.

"You don't look so serious," I say.

He makes a straight face and releases my hand. "I'm very serious. I'm sorry."

I sigh. "There's really nothing you should be apologizing for, Blaise. Don't—"

He holds up a hand. "I shouldn't have told you," he says. "I was serious about you—let me finish."

Of course he'd know that I was about to speak. I roll my eyes but hold my tongue.

"I wanted to back off, to hide my feelings behind jokes and teasing," he continues. "I knew you'd never had those types of feelings for me, and I knew that as soon as I told you how I felt, you'd feel guilty for hurting me because you didn't feel the same way."

God, why does he have to know me so damn well?

"I knew all of these things, but I was still too selfish to just back off and let you go. And for that, I'm sorry."

I pause for a moment to make sure he's finished before speaking. "Blaise, you shouldn't feel sorry for expressing your feelings. You have a right—"

"Yes, I know," he cuts me off. "But don't deny that you wish I hadn't said a thing."

"Don't say that," I say.

"Don't say what?"

We turn our heads to see that Harry's just Apparated into the room.

"Oh, nothing," Blaise says as another pop signals Ron's arrival. "I was just making fun of Ickle Ronniekins again."

"I heard that," Ron says, frowning at Blaise.

"What did they say about the dagger?" I ask the pair.

"Shacklebolt wanted to keep it," Harry says. "But I said that I could handle it—after all, we were the ones who destroyed the other Horcruxes."

"Did you say anything about the plan for Hogwarts?" Blaise asks.

"Shacklebolt is suspicious. McGonagall likes the idea, but she isn't so sure either," Harry reports.

"We should get out of the living room," I say. "Apparently the house is connected to the Floo Network—Nott appeared in the fireplace earlier."

"What?" Ron exclaims. "I thought this place was protected by the Fid—"

"Yes, but the occupants aren't," I interrupt him. "Nott could see Blaise."

"What happened, then?" Harry asks worriedly.

"Draco and I learned how to Transfigure back and forth when we were still at Hogwarts. I pretended to be Draco, pretending to be me," Blaise replies.

"Hermione, what about you?" Ron asks.

"I wasn't in sight when he appeared, so I just stayed out of sight."

"Wait…" Harry says slowly. "Then doesn't that mean Malfoy is in the house?"

"Yes," I say. "He got here last night, really badly injured. He's sleeping right now."

"Yeah, I saw him here last night," Ron says. "He was pretty pale."

I look at Ron, surprised by how calm he is. After all, he'd seen Draco sleeping in the bed that I'd been using.

"Well, since we ought to stay out of the living room, let's go keep Ginny company," Harry says.

"I'm hungry again," Ron says. "I'll be in the kitchen."

"From the way you eat, Weasley, I would've thought you were a professional troll wrestler," Blaise comments.

"Keep a lid on it," Ron says, exiting into the kitchen.

"Wow, Harry. What did you do? He's so much calmer than usual," I say.

Harry laughs.

"Maybe he's finally grown up," Blaise says, smirking.

We start moving toward the bedroom when Ron's voice rings out from the kitchen.

"I heard that!"